Thread 6293057

Every night you go to bed and you dream.

Of the sky, the wind running along your skin, whistling in your ear till you can't hear yourself think. Sometimes it's a storm with you at its center, watching it crush everything in its path, thunder rolling, lightning splitting the world. Or space, where there's no noise, nothing weighing you down. Just infinity punctuated by stars.

Your alarm drags you awake.

The same drab ceiling with paint chipping at the corner stares back at you like always. The room's humid again from sleeping with the windows shut. Your routine never changes: get up, eat whatever's in the fridge, shower, work construction for twelve hours, come home dead, repeat.

Your name is Arthur Carr. You live in a run-down apartment, work dead-end construction jobs. And tomorrow, your niece who you haven't seen in years is coming.

Your mother had four children; you being the youngest. None of you grew up well-adjusted. Your eldest sister Rosie married a cop who uses her for a punching bag. She convinces herself that getting abused is part and parcel of the "good life," whatever the hell that means.

Irene, second oldest, grew up hating everything about herself and her family—-an ambitious overachiever, always with a barb loaded behind her tongue. The first chance she got, she fled with some rich boyfriend. Last you knew, she’d gone to school and divorced her boyfriend turned husband, she defends pharmaceutical companies for enough money that she can afford to forget where she came from

April was only a few years older than you, but when you were a kid, you sometimes imagined she was your mother. She was kind and reliable in all the ways your real mother wasn't. She stayed the longest, because of you. You don't let yourself think about her anymore.

It's April's daughter who's coming to live with you. The social workers made it clear you weren't their first choice, so you can only imagine how bad things must be with Rosie and Irene. Though Irene probably refused outright—that's her style.

You're halfway through a cup of coffee when a knock at the door comes.

You open and the social worker stands in your doorway. Her raven hair reaching to her shoulders, she's wearing that same unreadable expression as in all your previous meetings.

Your niece stands at her side. You got the date wrong. How dammit?
"Hello, Uncle Arthur."

The girl's voice barely makes it across the threshold. You've met her three times— once when she was born and two supervised visits where the social worker did most of the talking while you sat there just listening.

It takes you half a second too long to respond. Uncertainty worms into her eyes.

The worker shoots you a look that breaks you out of your stupor. You get down to her level, smile wide and do your best to give a good impression.

“Hello Sophie, come in. Are you hungry?"

Sophie nods, she’s clutching a worn school bag against her chest. The Social worker leads her into the living room that connects to the kitchen.

"I've got cereal." you move to the cupboards and go through them all, you don’t remember where exactly it is, only that you saw a box a couple weeks ago. Finally, you find the Lucky Charms box. You pick it up but it's empty. Shit

You take the box, crumple it up and take aim at the trash can across the room. Miss. You ignore the failed attempt.

"We're going with Plan B. Do you eat eggs?"

Sophie nods.

“Sunnysiude, poached or scrambled?”

Sohies takes her time to think, you realize she doesn't know the names. You scramble your head and think back on all those breakfasts before school with April at the stove, Egg Eyes she would call the eggs.

“Or how about Egg Eyes huh?

Recognition flashes in her eyes. She nods, "Egg Eyes." Sophie's voice is barely there.

The social worker hasn't moved from the living room. Her eyes track you, professional and calculating. Her eyes speak in place of her mouth: This is a mistake.

And maybe she's right. What kind of life can you give this kid? An empty cereal box and a roach problem. Twelve-hour shifts that'll leave her alone most days.

"Sophie." You point down the narrow hallway. "The door on the left. That's your room. Drop your stuff, then we'll eat."

Sophie disappears down the hall. You look up.

"I’ll admit you caught me off guard. I thought it was tomorrow. I'm supposed to work today."

Her eyebrow lifts a fraction: "You have one month, Mr Carr. One month to demonstrate progress towards a stable living environment. If found deficient at the end of the period, she'll be remanded to state custody." She pauses, letting that sink in. "She's young, well-behaved, a good candidate for adoption but her mother was adamant you be considered as guardian. The month is a personal favor from me."

You didn't know that, you don’t get the chance to ask her. Sophie's footsteps return and the social worker drops to one knee.

"I'll check on you soon, sweetheart." She says in the sweetest voice possible, she simply nods her goodbyes to you as she heads for the door.

You set a plate for Sophie and lift her up to the chair. “I’ll be right back, I’m going to help our friend out”

You follow the worker out to the apartment doorway and into the hall.

"Thank you for coming. I promise—"

"Don't promise anything, Mr Carr."

She walks off, she's halfway down the hall when she looks back and asks. "What's my name?"

Her question hits you like a clean right hook. You remember her telling you her name weeks ago, on the first meeting. And she mentioned it again during the second. You try to reach for it but come up empty.

Her lips purse. "Lisa. It's Lisa." Something shifts in her face—not judgment, but recognition. Like she's seen this exact scene a thousand times, knows how it ends. "Please..." The word hangs there. "Try. At the very least, try."

She turns, heels clicking down the stairs.

Try. The word echoes in your ears as you watch Sophie shovel eggs into her mouth.

You can definitely try. And the first step is untangling this web you're in —you've got work in two hours and a kid to take care of. There's a couple of people that owe you some favors. You can call them, ask them to cover you. But that only buys you today. There's still tomorrow and the day after that.

You remember Mrs. Chen from the floor below. She's retired and kind. You've unclogged her kitchen sink a couple of times and replaced her doorknob when the super went AWOL. You know she has grandkids and lots of free time. You wonder if she would do you a favor, maybe watch Sophie while you're at work. But you're not family and fixing a sink isn't exactly in the same category as caring for a kid.

Speaking of kids, there's that kid from the third floor. Alexa, yeah that's her name. You don't know her personally, just occasional greetings and that time she collected your signature for a petition of hers. A senior in high school, saving up for college if you're not mistaken. She tutors kids and babysits around the neighborhood. You've heard she even tutors kids who can't pay her full rate. You suppose she's got a good heart in. In all your interactions she seemed like a smart and mature kid. But still a kid at the end of the day.

>Call in a favor, stay at home
>Ask Mrs Chen
>Pay Kendra to babysit

Just realized the babysitter option has the wrong name. Should be Alexa. For the curious, Kendra was the name in the first draft before I decided to change it.

>Pay Alexa to babysit.

>>6293060
>>Call in a favor, stay at home
this also gives time to explore the other two options, maybe think of something else too
gotta see about school for Sophie as well, I suppose

>>6293060
>Call in a favor, stay at home
This is a minor disaster in the making, taking a day off for damage control makes sense.

I'll give it another hour before beginning the update. For the curious, the setting is essentially a burgeoning cyberpunk-esqe NYC in the near future.

>>6293087
>A single man in near-future NYC paying for an apartment and a kid
We're super-duper fucked lol

>>6293088
Pretty much lol. I was thinking what if I had a kid right now irl? I'd be fucked financially lol.

Ah but what if superpowers were involved? Who knows if it would get better, but it'd definitely get more interesting. So the plot bunnies began hopping.

Vote Closed

You pull out your shitty Dexon FE phone. A cracked screen reflects your jagged image. You thumb in your password and scroll through contacts until you reach Marty. Your job site manager, he can be a hard ass but he's a lot better than others you've worked with. It doesn't take many rings before your call goes through.

"Hey listen, Marty uh, there's a life or death situation and I can't make it to the job tonight."
.
.
"No you know me, I wouldn't leave you hanging like that." You pace the narrow hallway. "I called Rony—you know Rony, he was on the crew for the Huskit demolition job."
.
.
"Yeah I know he's a loudmouth but he works well and—"
.
.
"Yeah I know, it won't become a habit, listen I'm sorry but I wouldn't do this if it weren't important."
.
.
"Yeah thanks Marty, talk to you later."

You're about to turn off the screen when just below Marty you see the name 'Nadya.'

The red octagon next to her name glares from the screen. You'd added it after the last time, when she'd called at 3 AM, drunk and crying. But extraordinary circumstances call for exceptions to the rule. A small part of your brain whispers that you haven't deleted her number for a reason.

Nadya was an old friend, from back when you first left home, after you realized that your mother was never going to change, not for you, for herself, or even God.

You'd met her while looking for an apartment, she was old money, and looking for an apartment in the rough part of town, same as you. Out of rebellion or a rich kid's fad or for some other reason. You never asked.

You got along, and were roommates for a time. She spotted you money back when you couldn't find a lick of work. You owed her a lot actually. She got you your first corpo job as a laborer at a subsidiary of a subsidiary of her family's company.

Your thumb hovers over her name. You've got maybe fifteen seconds before you talk yourself out of it.

>Dial
>Don't

>>6293135
>Dial
What could go wrong

>>6293135
>Dial
What's that? Self-destructively reconnecting with a past better left untouched?

>>6293135
>Dial

Vote Closed

You press call. The ringing continues long enough to make you wonder if she'll answer. On the final ring, someone picks up. In the background a chair scrapes against the floor.

"Artur?" That aristocratic accent, tinged with a speck of Eastern Europe is still the same. You wonder what else hasn't changed.

A voice rises from her end of the line. Someone's trying to talk to her. You hear her brush them off, pushing away your reservations, you speak. "Hey Nadya, it's been a while."

"Yeah, it has." Something shifts in her voice—there's a veneer of calm giving way to controlled eagerness. "I confess, I thought I'd never hear from you after our last talk."

Her drunken rambling hardly qualified as talk, but you won't contradict her.Get straight to the point.

"Listen, if you're not busy, I thought we could catch up. Do something maybe."

Silence stretches. For a moment you think the call has dropped, but then a man's voice erupts in the background—male, angry. All you catch is her name, then the sound of the phone being set down before unintelligible screaming fills the distance. “Haдя. Хтo цe? Чoмy тaк дoвгo?! Haхaбa”. Ukrainian, you only recognize one repeated word: Haхaбa. Pig. One of her favorite insults.

You try not to imagine what you've interrupted. There's a slight muffle as someone picks her phone up

"Artur? Still there?"

"Yeah, still here. So like I was saying, maybe we can—"

"Yes, for sure. I would like that." She cuts you off. "You still live in that old place?"

"No, I've moved to another old place." You laugh, injecting some levity.

Your phone pings. A notification appears at the top. Would you like to share your location with Nadya?'’

God. Eyes closed, you press yes. They're still closed when she says, "Head outside in fifteen. A car will come for you."

She doesn't explain where the car will take you—her house, a restaurant, the park. Could be the moon. Explaining was never her strength.

"One last thing before I hang up. I'm bringing a guest. I think you two will get along."

She makes that familiar unhappy hum. She can't say no, she's too committed now. As are you.

"Man or woman?" she asks.

"Kid." You smirk into the phone, enjoying her small ‘huh’ of surprise. "See you later." You hang up quickly, cutting off any questions.

Sophie has nearly finished breakfast when you walk back into the apartment. You grab a chair and set it beside her.

"Are you going to eat, Uncle Arthur?" Wide eyes look up at you.

You sit. "No Sophie, I already had breakfast." Pushing her plate aside, you continue. "We're going on a little adventure. A friend of mine is sending a car for us. Come on, let's get ready."

Questions fill her eyes. Any other time you'd welcome them.

The gaudy orange car that Nadya sent looks wholly out of place parked in front of your run-down apartment. "Papaya, it looks like a papaya," Sophie says as she holds your hand. You can't help but nod. A papaya on wheels.

The driver gets out and opens the door for you and Sophie. There's a holopad in the car, you turn it on for her and flick to the first kids channel on the directory. A minute later Sophie's absorbed in the device. You lean forward at the next red light. “Where exactly are we going?"

The driver glances back through the rear view mirror. He turns back as the light changes. "Belmont," he says.

The racetrack then. Nadya was always an animal lover. You wonder if she finally convinced her father to buy that horse she wanted, or if she's still dreaming of one. It's only twenty minutes to Belmont from Queens, where you live. You spend most of the drive staring out the window while Sophie stays absorbed in her kids' show.

When the racetrack comes into view. The car turns into a private driveway along the track's edge, leading to a sectioned-off parking lot. When the driver parks and exits, you wait. Experience taught you not to interfere with corporate servants' routines. He circles the car and opens your door. You step out without thanking him. Gratitude only creates awkward silence with his type. Sophie slides out the car following you out, still gripping the holopad. The driver stares, behind the mask he wants to say something, but he holds his tongue and drives away.

At the parking lot's edge, the elevator door slides open. There she stands.

Flawless—no blemishes, perfect makeup, nothing out of place. Nadya reaches your shoulders in height, wearing what she'd call an understated dress. Understated is laughable when you know the truth. White silk, probably imported, maybe with gold threads.

Her gaze flicks from you to Sophie at your side. Her eyes go comically wide, and she darts forward in her kitten heels, dropping to her knees just as Sophie looks up from her tablet.

"Oh, you are just angelic." She pinches Sophie's cheeks like a baby's. Sophie pulls back, wearing an annoyed expression.

"Oh, I'm sorry sweet, I didn't mean to scare you."

Sophie puffs out her chest. "I'm not afraid."

You place a reassuring hand on her shoulder "Of course you aren't."

Nadya turns to you. "Come on, it’s almost starting, we should head up"

Inside the elevator, Nadya presses the top floor button. The elevator doors close, and you hold Sophie with one hand. Good thing, because as you begin to lurch upwards her face turns pale. You hold in your laugh. But Nadya doesn't, it earns her a glare from the little girl.

The doors open into a narrow hallway leading into a booth that overlooks the racetrack through a series of floor-to-ceiling windows. It has everything. A bed, couch, TV, fridge. Only the kitchen is missing, but the phone by the table will probably summon whatever one desires. .

"Look." Nadya points as you settle Sophie on the couch.

Below, a midnight black stallion prances near the starting gate. "Number 10, Excalibur. That's mine." Pride colors every word.

You honestly know nothing about horses. "He's beautiful."

"I know. I had to sell some stock to get him. I couldn't convince Father to buy him for me."

You remember those late-night calls between them. She'd always step outside the room, but the apartment walls were paper-thin. You always heard everything, lots of Ukrainian words you couldn't understand but also all the anger within them.

"Was he cool with that?"

That self-satisfied smirk appears—the pleasure of defying authority. "Of course not. But I'm an adult. He can't stop me from selling my shares."

"Listen—"

"I think—"

You both stop. She nods for you to continue.

"I need work." You glance back at Sophie, absorbed in her screen. Nadya follows your gaze.

"I thought you had work. Last I heard, freelance was treating you fine."

"It was." You scratch your chin. "But Sophie changed everything. I can't work twelve-hour shifts anymore. I need family health insurance, childcare, and time off. Freelance can't provide that. I need a corporate job."

“Who knew all it took for some commitment was a child.”

You have no response to that. She stares at you for a second, searching for something in your eyes. When she looks away and takes out her phone you're left wondering whether she found anything. You get a ping on your phone.

“Open it”

In your messages sits a couple of contract offers. All relatively short term, a couple of weeks of ‘work‘ with a nice sounding title paying what you would make in an entire year, plus benefits. You look up and Nadya stares back, serious as you've ever seen her. “They’re all projects of mine, I’m personally involved in all of them. You can take her with you, there’s a kids center for the staff on base.”

“I was thinking of something more local, I don’t even know if they’ll let me take her out of state.”

“Dont worry about CPS, I’ll take care of them,” she says like it’s a simple matter. “Just choose one”

>Atacama Desert, Chile: A science team is using prototype observatory equipment trying to attract and study high-energy cosmic rays. Nadya hopes if their research advances she’ll have funded the next Nobel laureate.

>Exclusion Zone, Pripyat, Ukraine: The Ukrainian government has contracted Antonova Industries to catalog old experimental research lost during the Soviet era. Nadya's father has assigned a proper director, but she’s always wanted to see the exclusion zone first hand so she’s attached herself to the project.

>Nunavut, Canada: A Biotechnology company Nadya is funding is studying microorganisms preserved in glacial ice. It’s been a while and they've finally made some progress. Nadya will be going to see their discovery first hand.

>Nevada, USA: A joint project between the American corporation Dexon and Antonova Industries in developing a “clean” energy reactor. She has to be there to represent the family, it’s the final test month before they send their reports to their respective governments and company boards.

>>6293581
>Nunavut, Canada: A Biotechnology company Nadya is funding is studying microorganisms preserved in glacial ice. It’s been a while and they've finally made some progress. Nadya will be going to see their discovery first hand.

>>6293581
>Nunavut, Canada: A Biotechnology company Nadya is funding is studying microorganisms preserved in glacial ice. It’s been a while and they've finally made some progress. Nadya will be going to see their discovery first hand.


Are we playing as the scientist ex-bf of the daughter of some multimillionaire supervillain? Damn, this is really interesting!

>>6293581
>Nunavut, Canada

>It's a Mold Spore!
>It's a single celled Fungus!
>No, It's...

>BACTERIA MAN
>Faster than a speeding paramecium, stronger than a amoeba, able to leap structures of up to 1000 micrometers in a single ooze!

>Also Nunavut has gold industries, so that's a good villain hook.

>>6293595
Well you never got to ex-bf status, you ran away before that, and your not a scientist, just a skilled laborer/construction person who's being given a phony "job" as a favor. but the rest checks out lol.

>>6293581
>Nunavut, Canada: A Biotechnology company Nadya is funding is studying microorganisms preserved in glacial ice. It’s been a while and they've finally made some progress. Nadya will be going to see their discovery first hand.

Tempted for that lost soviet technology tho

>>6293598
You still get the idea

>>6293622
Same, my first thought was that maybe we found some brainwashing technique and turn us into a super spy, but then maybe we could've just end up like a mush of radioactive flesh encased on some old scuba metal suit

I'll be honest, I'm surprised Canada is taking it decisively. Cosmic ray malfunctions and energy reactor meltdowns aren't appealing??? (I kid)

I doubt there's gonna be enough votes to swing it in any other direction so Vote Closed

And think about power archetypes. I want everyone to roll 6d100, it isn't a pas/fail roll, its for me to see what powers pop up on the power tables I have over here and help me brainstorm your next vote.

Rolled 88, 82, 69, 99, 95, 28 = 461 (6d100)

>>6293635
Come on baby! Prototype-like powers with cosmic horrors beyond our comprehension! Technology, Space and weird Esotericism all in one unfortunate accident!!!

Rolled 34, 43, 31, 69, 36, 19 = 232 (6d100)

>>6293635
Gold venom lookin Nadya's top booty call archetype. Ancient Atlantis crystal core of nanomachines, gotta collect all the lost bits. Shapeshifting vampirism superspy from Cain's tooth frozen in ice. A dragon scale from the mythic age of gods and titan kaiju monsterfights.

Rolled 69, 4, 75, 11, 47, 66 = 272 (6d100)

>>6293635
HANG ONTA' SOMETHIIIIING

>>6293639
>>6293645
>>6293646
>three separate 69s
the SEX powers

>>6293645
>A dragon scale from the mythic age of gods and titan kaiju monsterfights.
You're onto something

Do we turn into a Kaiju or just a half-kaiju that's 7-8 ft who gets some special abilities?

Also now that I think about it, some Kamen Rider stuff could be awesome

Rolled 98, 95, 45, 36, 98, 70 = 442 (6d100)

>>6293635


In a world of near future cyberpunk cynicism, we need camp 60s silver age superheroes, with names like The Radon Kid and The Astounding Behemoth and Plutos, the woman from beyond the stars.

They bring Hope and unparalleled optimism

>>6293635
>Arthur
Just for another mystic legend option, something out of Arthurian legend of a lost knight or Fey relic. Avalon. Frozen grail water. Throw his ass into a never ending Quest or eternal vigil to defend his supervillain liege lady with a magic sword and balls of steel.

>>6293649
Nadya throwing Arthur at the sexy plot devices only, had this lined up for years

>>6293650
Tough call, could see if he can build up to the big stuff just to have a goal for later. Lots of reasons a big creature would have lived in the water. If he turns into a dragon maybe Nadya qualifies as a princess to steal lol

>>6293654
>Just for another mystic legend option, something out of Arthurian legend of a lost knight or Fey relic. Avalon. Frozen grail water. Throw his ass into a never ending Quest or eternal vigil to defend his supervillain liege lady with a magic sword and balls of steel.
Knight in shinning armor wearing Armani? Fuck yeah, protecting our evil Liege and Princess Nadya until the true Lady of the Lakes calls for us to rise from our evil masters and fight for the side of the Good. May our acts of heroism washes away the hideous Black from our armor

>Tough call, could see if he can build up to the big stuff just to have a goal for later. Lots of reasons a big creature would have lived in the water. If he turns into a dragon maybe Nadya qualifies as a princess to steal lol
What about something like Firebreather? Best of both worlds, and near the end game we turn into a True Dragon or some shit

I have to say, I'm loving the enthusiasm. It really made my day anons, so thanks. I'll be busy formatting the powers list and writing up the next update. If anyone who wasn't rolled wants to please go ahead. I'll be accepting rolls until 7pm EST after which the final powers list will be written up.

>>6293657
I'm feeling the Knight call, the banners in the wind. Large circular desk table. Nadya even has a dark horse steed named Excalibur she had to have no matter what.

Firebreather would be pretty sweet tho.

Rolled 22, 23, 85, 33, 18, 24 = 205 (6d100)

>>6293635
>Anons passed on the Zone
Fuckkkk

Ohh caaaaanada

>>6293577
Artur dick must be outta this world
>>6293649
confirmed lol

Rolled 9, 78, 95, 88, 46, 100 = 416 (6d100)

>>6293635

>>6293734
100 bros we cooking???

Rolled 16, 48, 40, 85, 64, 69 = 322 (6d100)

>>6293635

Qm?

>>6293759
Never fear anon, I am still alive. I'm busy writing shit down.

>>6293745
Another 69 has hit the power tables

>>6293734
zamn a nat100 too

Honestly all those 69s being some kind of weird Pheromone/Heartbreaker power could be fun

Rolled 43, 14, 82, 85, 71, 51 = 346 (6d100)

>>6293635

Alright it's time to vote and see what powers Arthur is getting. Each choice comes as a cohesive Power set. I think it's better to vote now so that the narrative update isn't bogged down later and I can simply finish it up after this vote.

>Are you a Man?
–Body Resistance
–Hyper Endurance
–Hyper Strength
–Life Support
–Enhanced Reflexes

>Is Your Mind Open?
–Phasing
–Clairaudience
–Clairvoyance
–Mind Blast
--Telekinesis

>Are you the Avatar?
--Weather Control
--Air Control
--Fire Control
--Earth Control
–Flight

>Can You Hear The Circuitry?
–Machine Animation
–Organic Cybernetic
–Digital Mind Transmission
–Resist Emotion Attacks
–Resist Physical Attacks(Nanite Skin)

>What does it feel like to be God?
–Cosmic Awareness
–Cosmic Energy Manipulation
–True Flight

>>6293984
Man... I'm between two so I'll just

>Are you a Man?
>Can you hear the Circuitry?

If for some reason there's a tie between them I'll change my vote, but I'm a sucker for superhumans and that part of Organic Cybernetics it's itching a part of my brain with the Prototype prompt I wrote yesterday

>>6293984
How does it work, do we pick an option like are you a man, or one choice from each category?

>>6293984
>Can You Hear The Circuitry?

>>6293984
>Can You Hear The Circuitry?
If we’re on the verge of cyber punk this set is the most useful

>>6293984
>Are you a Man?
I just want to vulgarly display my power

>>6293984
>Can You Hear The Circuitry?
but you promised spaceflight
there better be spaceflight or I'm rolling straight 1s

>>6293984
>Can You Hear The Circuitry?
This and plus the fact that we are a construction worker? Very cool. Do you hear the current sing, friends?

>>6293984

>Are you a Man?
The Knight

Lots of love for the Circuitry music. I doubt we're going to get the extra votes needed to verturn it's momentum so Vote Closed

Congrats you now have a little space-bio-mechanical-organic worm inside you

>>6294029
I smell ozone, rubber and polychlorinated biphenyls. It smells like... power.

>>6294061
Da würm

>>6294061
The worm yearns for synthpunk.
>>6294062
The groan of steel and the hiss of gasoline whisper of secrets long-forgotten and truths undiscovered.

>>6294057
Fuck, anon... I let you down... I was about to change my vote for the Knight but my tummy yearned for food, I'm sorry

>>6293984
>>Are you a Man?
Be a MAN. As swift as a-

>>6294061
ah. Nevermind. Correction;

NANOMACHINES, Son.

>>6294076
The dream of Chivalry...

There are ways to retool your powers and gain new ones within the narrative. So don't worry about "lost" paths.

This will be the biggest update so far so it'll take a bit more time

I'm digging what you've written so far OP, looking forward to more

>>6294082
>There are ways to retool your powers and gain new ones within the narrative. So don't worry about "lost" paths.
No take backs. The SEX powers though are non negotiable.

>>6294082
laser penis using the cyborg powers

Nobody will see it coming

>>6294121
*Nobody will see it cumming

>>6293581
You press on the Nunavut contract and your phone buzzes—$150,000 deposited. Christ

"C'mon, let's watch the race." Nadya pulls you forward, patting the seat beside her.

The window's screen magnifies Excalibur bursting from the gate. His nostrils flare. Veins burst beneath his coat as his muscles bunch and release. He pistons forward. The jockey looks almost still upon Excalibur's back, he never uses the whip. Excalibur runs like vengeance. He rounds the final turn with no horse near him. He crosses the line the crowd erupts in jubilance, bills and holopads clutched in their fists.

Nadya follows your gaze. "They backed Excalibur. He's the local hero." She leans forward, eyes bright. "This year he takes the Triple Crown. I can feel it, Artur. This will be our year."

The winners embrace below, money changes hands. You nod, silently watching them celebrate.

You look at the screen, minus thirty.

That's the weather data for Nunavut, watching the numbers shift between Celsius and Fahrenheit, both look equally brutal. You and Sophie need gear that can handle the Arctic and Nadya recommended traditional gear. "Synthetic fills fail up there," she texted "Trust the old school methods."

Trust you will, you order the entire list she sends you.

The packages arrive the next day. Coats, hats, gloves, everything. Bear fur for the hoods, wolf fur for the coats, and beaver pelts for the gloves and hats. When you try yours on, it fits perfectly. If you could, you'd give the craftspeople a big hug.

Sophie, on the other hand, disappears inside her coat. Only her eyes and the edge of her cheeks peek out from the combined fluff of the hood and bulky hat. Her coat hem reaches to her knees. Her arms stick out, limp against her sides, unable to fully lift through the bulk. It makes her look like a fluffy penguin chick.

"You look good, comfortable," you say.

Her eyes narrow in disbelief, but you insist and soon enough her cheeks rise in a hidden smile.

A black sedan arrives at dawn. Its tinted windows turn the world outside into a collage of animated shadows. The chauffeur drives right at the speed limit, taking the LIE at full throttle until the car reaches a private airstrip. A next generation North-Star plane sits on the runway with a mobile airstair unit attached.

Nadya stands at the top, ushering you in enthusiastically. You pull Sophie along. Inside, two men in pilot uniforms are going through the itinerary–in French. The older one has gray at the temples and nods at you. The younger man avoids eye contact entirely.

"Jacques Senior and Junior," Nadya says. "From Marseilles, France." The junior pilot forces his eyes up at her voice.

You shake their hands. They tell Nadya something in rapid French before retreating to the cockpit, clicking the door shut.

Nadya waits a few seconds. "They speak perfect English," she says in a low voice as you set aside your bags.

She settles into the cream leather seat across from you. Sophie claims a window seat, pressing her nose to the glass.

"They report to my father. My flights and passengers. Want to know how I discovered their little secret?" Nadya leans forward. She doesn't wait for your answer. "Flying back from Mallorca, I was telling my friend about my night. The younger Jacques walked past, 'supposedly' heading to the lavatory while I was describing certain... intimate details. His ears turned scarlet." She titters before pressing a hand to her lips. "A man who doesn't understand English shouldn't blush at words he can't know, eh?"

She turns away having imparted that particular nugget of information. You feel the engines roar to life, below the New York lights fade away behind the clouds.

A small hand tugs at your arm. "Wake up, Uncle Arthur."

You open your eyes to find Sophie staring at your face with the intensity unique to children.

"I told her to wake you up," Nadya says from her couch. "We land in half an hour."

You touch your arm and notice goosebumps despite the soft blanket covering you. Wait—blanket? You don't remember covering yourself.

Sophie proudly taps her chest with both hands.”I put the blanket on you. Nadya helped me find it, but I put it on you."

You pull Sophie into a quick hug before getting up to unpack your gear.

You slide on your thermal socks and snow boots, button up your heavy wolf coat and put on your thick gloves and hat. Fully dressed, You and Nadya team up to get Sophie dressed so that by the time the plane begins its descent you're ready.

With the plane's heating system running at full power, you're already starting to sweat under all the layers of clothes.

The plane's wheels hit the ice with a violent thump. You can tell whenever the plane runs over an uneven part of the runaway because the entire plane skids sideways before centering. It's a bumpy ride but eventually you do roll to a halt.

The door hisses as the pressure seal separating the inside and outside loosens with a soft pop. It open and Nunavut greets you with cold winds and snow.

Sophie glances between you and Nadya. "Where are the stairs?”

Nadya's smile turns mischievous. "Stairs? We have to jump."

Sophie's expression suggests someone just announced you're all about to die. Nadya laughs and pulls out a small red box, attaching it to the bottom of the plane's door frame. She clicks a button and the box bursts open. Expanding downward, transforming into an inflatable slide.

"Now jump!" Nadya leaps forward without hesitation, sliding down as if it were an amusement park ride.

You bend down to scoop up Sophie, holding her securely as you slide down together—though with considerably less enthusiasm than Nadya.

Half a dozen snow vehicles stand parked several feet from the plane and its bright red slide. The passenger door of the lead vehicle snaps open, and an elderly man dressed in modern winter gear practically sprints through the snow toward your group.

"Nadya!" The old man's voice cracks with relief. "Thank, goodness. One more day and I'd have started the extraction myself."

She hugs him, pressing her cheek to his, then pulls back to wag a finger at him. "Try that, Archibald, and I'll abandon you here until you find me another one."

"You tempt me." His eyes gleam. "Living alone with my research, paradise!" Taking note of your presence he turns to you and Sophie. "But your manners, dear. Who are these delights?" He asks Nadya

Preempting any presentation you step forward, hand extended. "Arthur Carr. And my niece, Sophie."

Archibald sweeps into a bow that makes Sophie giggle. "The new Warden of Section Three!" He whirls toward the convoy, cupping his hands around his mouth. "The new Warden of Section Three, people!

Hands thrust from car windows, waving. They're all in on something and you're not.

The cars pull up. You climb into the lead vehicle. Through the windshield you see security teams flank the convoy. One car ahead, two behind.

"This is sensitive research," Nadya says, catching your look. "Plus the polar bears. You wouldn't believe how many wander through."

At the mention of bears Sophie erupts with questions. Nadya deflects half to Archibald, who fields each one with theatrical flair, his hands moving, drawing answers in the air. You watch snow stretch to the horizon.

The research base sits two hours away from the 'airport' you landed at, When it comes into view its light gray walls almost seem to dissolve into the Arctic haze. Only the entrance sits at ground level. A steel and concrete semi circle, with a square opening into which the convoy disappears to.

Steel gates grind shut behind you. The snow that slips through the gap already begins to melt as the heat vents blast to life.

"This faculty consists of three subterranean levels," Dr. Archibald says, as you exit the car and pass the unloading crew, walking towards an elevator. "The first floor houses all our staff, generators and life support systems. It's also where data analysis takes place. Oh and the cafeteria and dorm wing are there. We've got twelve kids living here, they attend school in the east wing."

The elevator door opens with a pneumatic hiss. You step Inside. Archibald punches 2B.

"The second floor houses the real work. My lab, the ice core samples, measuring equipment. It's where we harvest data that we send upstairs."

The elevator descends.

"The third floor—" He grins. "That's the drilling platform, that's your section, Mr Warden. The drills operate remotely from the second floor. But when a bit snaps or hydraulics fail, a repair bot goes down. In fact we've never had to send a person down there”

You catch Nadya's reflection, she studies her boots intently. Did she completely make your job up?

The elevator stops. Stepping outside you see researchers bent over machines you can't begin to name, a giant centrifuge whirring, someone pipetting a blue liquid into test tubes.

"Welcome to the ice mines," Dr Archibald says. "I hope you're not claustrophobic."

Apparently the doctor's idea of a good time means taking you through an extensive tour that stretches through laboratory after laboratory. At first you don't see the harm in humoring him, his enthusiasm is almost contagious even if his jargon goes over your head. But it goes on and on and on.

He shows you the centrifuge lab first, then the extraction suite, and the sample archives. He breaks out into a mini lecture on peptide chains, thermal coefficients, molecular degradation rates, etc.

It's when you reach a chamber clouded with frost that you're at your limit. As are Sophie and Nadya judging by the constant checking of her watch and your niece's tug at your sleeve.

The doctor though remains oblivious

"The cryogenic stabilizers maintain cellular integrity at minus-180 Celsius," he says, running his hand along the condensation-beaded surface. "Remarkable, really. Once extracted, we can preserve samples indefinitely."

You feel bad but you have to do it. “Doc.” You say almost at the level of a shout. "The trip here, I have to say it's made us tired,"

He blinks and tilts his head. "Tired?" The word sits on his tongue. "Ah, well. right." Looking puzzled over the concept that someone could be fatigued. He escorts you to the nearest elevator

Before the door shuts, he turns to Nadya. "Nadya dear, rise early tomorrow. Extraction begins at six hundred hours, no more delays."

Nadya tiredly nods.

You head to the cafeteria where Sophie devours three bowls of mac and cheese and two chocolate pudding cups. You savor your ham sandwich despite it being between stale white bread. Nadya sits across from you, hands folded, watching.

Having finished with eating, you walk to your dorms which occupy the west wing of the first floor. A steel door with a biometric scanner separates the section from the staff quarters. Nadya types an override code and lifts Sophie to the scanner. The machine reads her eye and her fingerprint. You step forward next. Having registered yourselves, the lock disengages with a hiss.

There's six rooms in this wing. Each one furnished with a console, bed, desk, and heating unit—which is a luxury in a place where the walls accumulate ice between defrost cycles. Nadya leaves you and Sophie at your door.

Sophie doesn't waste time bouncing onto the bed. You pull out the holopad she lifted from the papaya car and load some pre-downloaded shows. There's no wireless here. Everything runs through cables.

Within the hour, Sophie's grip on the pad loosens. Her eyes flutter closed. You pull the thermal blanket to her chin and settle into a chair when the room's console beeps.

A message glows on the screen. From Nadya

Are you still awake?

Your thumb hovers over the reply button. The heating unit clicks and hums. You know what will happen if you respond.

>Respond
>Don't


Didn't get to the climax yet. (soo many words) but I hope this vote entertains you. It's consequential, I promise.

>>6294334
>Respond
We can't be rude to our benefactor

>>6294334
>Respond
I don't really care what happened with Nadya in the past or if she's the heiress to an evil corporate conglomerate. Homegirl pulled Arthur out of the mud without a question asked or apology demanded.

>>6294334
>>Respond

>>6294334
>Respond
Nice

>>6294313
>She titters before pressing a hand to her lips. "A man who doesn't understand English shouldn't blush at words he can't know, eh?"
Maybe her tits were hanging out. Or her friend's.

>>6294341
Little did we know, she planned on Arty getting got by the roboworm hiding in the ice. She is the secret evil mastermind secret nemesis. Be wary.

>>6294368
Nothing like a hot evil mastermind to manipulate our hapless blue-collar protagonist

>>6294370
Truly a tale as old as the last time it happened.

>>6294334
>Respond

>>6294368
Lets say whatever happened to his sister, Sophie's mother, was arranged by Nadya. Then she had a hand in whatever happened with the other siblings so it would come down to Arthur having Sophie. He doesn't have anyone but ol Nadya whose number he just so happens to have after her drunk 3am call. Now shes got him in a frozen outland albeit sweet gig. All so she can have her favorite booty call. Oh yeah its all coming together.

>>6294382
God it's so fucking obvious now that we see it. She probably also manipulated the utilities companies and crimes rates in our neighborhood to make the housing just affordable enough but just expensive enough in upkeep to ensure we were unable to effectively manage savings.

Arthur was cursed with dick too good for this world and his punishment is the rich yandere gf.

>>6294334
>Respond

>>6294334
>Respond
Well, we already decided didn't we.

>>6294334
>Didn't get to the climax yet
the way the evening is going, I ain't worried
>Respond
a good dicking is the least we can do in thanks

> Respond
It's probably our job details, nobody told us what we're doing so far.

Vote Closed

Another big update incoming.

>>6294334
You type a simple yes(/i]. Nothing more needs saying. You both know where this leads.

Your door hisses open. The steel floor chills your feet even through your socks. You look down and unbutton the first three buttons of your night shirt. You'll leave the rest to her. At Nadya's door, your palm finds the lock. It reads your prints, clicks, and slides open.

Lamplight pools beside her bed. She stands within its amber glow as shadows fall across her shoulders and a down familiar translucent chemise. The fabric whispers against her skin as she shifts. You know what lies beneath. Nothing but warmth and wanting. Her fingers press the lamp switch. In that last moment of light her chemise reveals the suggestive curve of her hips and the slopes of her breast.

You don't need light. You haven't for a long time. Your bodies have memorized this choreography. Repeat rehearsals have etched this dance within you. Muscle memory guides you. Her breath breaks when you find her in the dark. The mattress sighs and accepts your combined weight. Your hands retrace familiar territory.

The delicate path of her throat.

The gentle ridges of her collarbone.

The pliable softness of her stomach

The scorching heat below.

When the heating unit clicks off. Only three sounds remain. Fabrics sliding off skin, the bed creaking beneath moving bodies, and your breaths becoming ragged, then urgent, then lost entirely.

Thought dissolves. Only ecstasy exists—yours and hers, inseparable—building and building until flesh surrenders to its limits.

You thought you would wake to Nadya's warmth beside you.

Instead a violent trembling launches you from the bed. The impact snaps you awake. The room shudders as you struggle to orient yourself. You manage to flick on the lights

By some miracle Nadya remains atop the mattress. Though her knuckles are white against bunched up sheets. Both of you are too dumbfounded to speak.

A child's cry pierces through the haze, high and terrified, everything else becomes secondary.

Both of you jam your feet through the opening of your pants and wrestle with your shirts

The hallway lights stutter overhead, the corridor pulses black and white.

Sophie stands frozen outside your room. A nasty bruise runs across her small arm. Tears and snot run freefall. When she sees you, she runs forward all the while her mouth twist in a wordless sob that turns something inside your chest.

The floor begins to rumble. You lunge forward, gathering her against your chest, shielding her as the hallway convulses and you're knocked against a wall. Dust begins to rain down from the vents above.

"What is happening?"

"I have no idea." Nadya's voice lay at the fringes of fear, not quite there but close to it.

You exit the private wing to a scene of pure chaos. Remnants of food and drink stain the cafeteria. Scientists in wrinkled lab coats shout over each other. A security team leader—one you recognize from yesterday—spots Nadya and gestures sharply to his squad.

Half of them split the unruly horde of people and form a protective semicircle around her while another team attempts to herd the panicked crowd toward the periphery.

A young doctor pushes through the confusion, his white coat still pristine despite the madness. He reaches Nadya, slightly out of breath. "Ms. Antonova, the lifts are disabled. The tremors triggered safety protocols. We can't override without proper clearance." He finishes, swallowing hard

Security escorts you toward the control panel. Staff shouts for answers as you walk but the security detail keep them at bay, stone faced with nary a reaction. The door to the control room shuts closed, momentarily cutting off the noise from outside.

"Is this an earthquake?" Nadya asks the doctor.

"We presume so, miss. Our instruments recorded 9.0. Directly below us before they went offline." The young doctor's voice wavers. "But earthquakes don't happen here—not like this. We're nowhere near any major fault lines. That's precisely why the facility was built here."

"Well, it's happening now." Nadya responds as her fingers move across the panel, entering the override codes that will bring the lift system back to life.

Exiting the room you see the nearest lift begin to restart, groaning as it climbs. It's doors part to unleash a wave of lab coats, all with the pallor of terror.

A male researcher clutches a cracked holopad to his chest. When he spots Nadya he runs in her direction only to be stopped by security. He doesn't have the will to argue, he simply hands the tablet to the guard before turning around. You can see the shock behind the white of his eye.

Nadya takes the tablet, reviewing its contents all the while the newcomers' voices overlap in a confused chorus.

It takes the security teams forcing them back towards designated assembly points and promises of incoming evacuation teams for the masses to calm down.

For the first time you realize the time. 6:30 the clock on the wall reads. You overslept, you realize.

"The extraction, at 6" The words escape before you can stop them.

The young doctor turns. "Yes, Dr Archibald was in the process of retrieving the latest samples when the tremors began."

Nadya turns off the tablet and addresses her security chief. "Archibald shut down the lifts himself. He locked his section of the second floor down. Why?” She asks no one in particular. “We need to bring him up. This facility can be rebuilt, but the old man is irreplaceable. I'm going down with you. You'll need my clearance. Eight of you with me. The rest of you keep these people calm until help arrives."

The men respond with immediate, unquestioning obedience.

You turn to the doctor. "There's a teacher here right? Who is she?" The question comes out harsher than you intend.

He points toward a portly middle-aged woman standing near a cafeteria table. Two children press against her legs. You spot other kids scattered through the crowd, clinging to whatever adult seems safest.

Sophie hasn't lifted her head from your shoulder since you picked her up. Her tears have soaked through your shirt. You approach the teacher, whose hands shake despite her attempt to appear calm.

You gesture toward the lift . She catches on. “Please, until I return.”

The woman reaches for Sophie, but your niece's fingers dig into your shirt, her small body rigid with refusal. It hurts you to have to pry her fingers loose. You cup her cheeks and have her look at you face to face before releasing her

Fresh tears spill down her cheeks, but the teacher has her now, murmuring something soothing as you turn away.

"I'll be back. I promise!” You shout, as if saying it louder would make it so.

Before entering the lift Nadya's hand presses against your chest. "Are you sure?"

You nod.

Her hand drops. The lift doors close behind you, and the descent begins.

The lift doors open with a soft hiss.

Before you lies pure ruin. The floor is completely abandoned, the few scheduled to work in this section all managed to crowd into the lift. Glass covers every inch of the floor. Not a single machine remains intact, they litter the floor either unresponsive or malfunctioning.

Your adrenaline must be wearing off because the cold strikes you then for the first time. Nadya too, she wraps her arms around herself. Your group walks through the laboratories to the sealed section.

You reach the first you have to unlock. Nadya moves to the console, immediately accessing the controls and begins inputting an override code. She is nearly finished when the lead guard raises his hand.

Everyone freezes. His men click their safeties off. He points down at small puddles of dark blood that seeps from beneath the door.

"There's something behind the door," he says, barely above a whisper.

"All the more reason to get it open," Nadya shoots back.

"Please wait, miss," another guard interjects. "Worrying is our job."

Frustration fills her face. "Someone could be bleeding out in there. They might be trying to open the door from their side. Either way, we need to get through. You all have guns. Nothing in there can hurt us."

The men are visibly unhappy but obey. But before allowing Nadya to complete the override, they take the time to arrange themselves in a protective formation. The guard closest to you draws his sidearm and presses it into your palm.

"Ready?" Nadya asks sharply.

The lead guard nods. She presses override and the door opens with a metallic click.

Your eyes widen at what lies beyond.

A monster standing atop its carnage. It looks like a thing torn from the pages of a horror book. Its frozen body is unnatural, misshapen, with incorrect proportions. Upon every limb a killing instrument sits fused.

The men open fire immediately. The creature stumbles backward, but only a step, as if the bullets were rubber instead of the latest Antonova rounds.

"Run!" a guard screams.

It takes half a second to react. In that time, the creature drives its jagged arm through a guard's chest. It lifts him effortlessly, and hurls him aside like nothing.

You grip Nadya's hand and pull her without looking back. The sounds of slaughter linger behind you as you flee.

The gunfire stops by the time you reach the sample repository.

The silence makes you pause. It makes you hope that perhaps the security team has brought the monster down. That hope crashes when the creature rounds the corner and comes into view holding the torn limb of a guard.

You empty your magazine. You have no idea what hits or misses—you don't care. You just want it to stop.

It launches the limb like a projectile. Striking Nadya and sending her sprawling. She slips from your grip. Her eyes stay open but blood trickles from her scalp.

The thing hunches forward, dropping to all fours before launching itself at you.

Everything shatters. Machines, tables, desks, ice samples. They all scatter across the room. You feel nothing except the cold. You try to rise but can't. When you force your head to look down to look, you understand why. Your body is severed in half.

You see The Thing pauses only for a moment to admire its work.

The cold deepens. Your eyes refuse to stay open. You begin to drift away.

---
xternal pressure detected.

Measuring time elapsed... approximately 2,400,000,000 planetary orbits.

Protocols initiating.

Activating emergency survival sequence.

Oxygen detected... Hydrogen detected... Carbon detected...

Measuring... Measuring...

Internal query. Checking viability...

Very good probability.

Initiating merger.

Reforming structure.

Approximate time: 1 minute to completion.

Assessing the host's changes.

Roll 12d100


OOC: Bo3. These rolls determine how effectively the organism changes Arthur's base stats. Plus the intensity of his powers.

Rolled 5, 33, 29, 71, 74, 3, 98, 95, 38, 55, 69, 37 = 607 (12d100)

>>6294868
Come on more funny numbers. Lucky Sixty Nine let's go. SEX powers now! Also fucking OW. Rude.

Rolled 48, 42, 22, 73, 70, 39, 38, 58, 67, 38, 78, 5 = 578 (12d100)

>>6294868
It would be unforgivable for that child to lose their second parent this early.

Rolled 96, 56, 18, 32, 49, 32, 28, 90, 81, 74, 4, 53 = 613 (12d100)

>>6294868

Rolled 44, 59, 96, 26, 60, 19, 10, 97, 19, 96, 87, 11 = 624 (12d100)

>>6294868
Dick upgrade get!

>>6294869
Yes, another to add to the collection.

Rolled 85, 57, 38, 72, 42, 90, 44, 66, 67, 17, 98, 17 = 693 (12d100)

>>6294868
Sexo

Rolled 39, 80, 21, 23, 74, 34, 42, 95, 79, 98, 76, 28 = 689 (12d100)

>>6294868
Noice. I wonder how long before the next booty call with Super Arthur, and company. I expected the space worm, but I want to believe in Atlantis.

I must roll and see

Rolled 9, 69, 18, 30, 13, 18, 36, 33, 49, 32, 64, 55 = 426 (12d100)

>>6294868

Rolled 65, 75, 17, 48, 31, 23, 72, 30, 85, 27, 35, 13 = 521 (12d100)

>>6294868

Rolled 79, 14, 9, 41, 83, 16, 66, 35, 68, 81, 12, 88 = 592 (12d100)

>>6294868

>Arthur Carr

Fighting: 96 [Monstrous]
Agility: 56 [Excellent]
Strength 29 [Good]
Endurance: 73 [Incredible]
Reason: 74 [Incredible]
Intuition: 39 [Good]
Psyche: 98 [Monstrous]

Machine Animation: 95 [Amazing]
Organic Cybernetic: 81 [Incredible]
Digital Mind Transmission: 74 [Incredible]
Resist Emotion Attacks: 87 [Incredible]
Resist Physical Attacks (Nanite Skin): 53 [Remarkable]


The rolls in front of the abilities are the results from the bo3 of the first three anons who rolled. The description following that is what corresponds to my behind the scenes Power Ranks table

Monstrous and Incredible are Power Ranks. I'll explain, this quest will run on a narrative d100. Said d100 will always be accompanied by a corresponding power rank of the Power or Ability the players are testing.

Power Ranks describe how strong a Power is or how good a character is at something.

The way we determine success vs failure is by referencing the results chart. For example, I say Arthur needs to roll, 1d100 Fighting [Monstrous].

Anons roll 1d100 and I check the results vs the column labeled Monstrous. If it lands in any section that's colored it's a success. There are some ifs, buts, and when's that will crop up, but I'll explain that as we go. That's the gist of the system.

I won't write much over the weekends. Maybe I'll play out the combat scene here with very basic narration and anons can roll over the weekend, and then I'll write out the narrative on Monday.

>>6295047
>only middling nanomachine skin and meh strength
Alas. Looks like we're not going to be playing college ball any time soon. On the other hand, we're plugged the fuck in.

>>6295078
low Intuition is probably unfixable, the others sound like priority upgrades to me

>>6295089
>tfw fixing intuition is simply going into the hood and trying not to get robbed
I like the idea that the roboworm didn't actually affect Arthur's intuition or strength at all and he's kinda just built like that personally.

Monstrous Fighting and Monstrous Psyche is certainly an…interesting combination?

I assume the latter means we will be pretty damn resilient towards stuff like mind control and other mental harm?

>>6295093
nice

>>6295047
>Monstrous: Fighting and Psyche
>Amazing: Machine Animation
>Incredible: Endurance, Reason, Cybernetics, Mind Transmission, Emotional Resistance
What are we, some kind of machine Shaolin monk?

>>6295153
alien cyborg connor mcgregor

>>6295154
Conor is a mental midget. With the psyche, endurance, reason, and emotional resistance Arthur's greatest advantage might be his /strongmind/

The rolls were completely random but I can imagine a myriad of narrative reasons to pair to each result.

Psyche, high mental resistance and will. There's an organic supercomputer space worm inside Arthur's brain. Anything that wants to control its host has to get through it.

Fighting, I can imagine the worm computing millions of factors mid combat and feeding it to Arthur's subconscious, making him fight with terrifying skill, even for a superhuman.

On the topics of physical changes, the worm focused on reviving his organ function and improving his survivability hence high endurance.

It might not have improved his strength and agility to the same levels because Arthur might not have survived the change.

On the topic of powers. I'll post a description of each one.

Machine Animation- The hero can control the movement of anything mechanical. It is as if the hero were a combination remote-control panel and power source. The machines can only perform those functions for which they were designed. While under the influence of the Power, the affected machines can function even in the absence of a normal power supply.The Power is primarily intended to control normally non-sentient devices, which are considered to have a Psyche of zero

Digital Mind Transmission- The hero can transmit his memory, personality and thinking ability into any electronic or cybernetic device which has microchips built into it. This allows the disembodied conscious of the hero to inhabit various android, robotic, cybernetic or computerized devices. The hero may on a successful Power roll assume control of the host.

Organic Cybernetics- The player can use the complete computing power of their symbiote to “Jack In” to the mind of another living organism. For animals and organisms of simple intelligence the Player needs only pass a Power vs Psyche test. For humans, and beings of higher intelligence the target must be unconscious or a consenting party. The player must still pass an Endurance test to avoid any mental backlash. Recent memories and and stored mental information may be accesed. To influence any physical or mental aspect of a target a subsequent Red Succes is necessary.

Resistance Physical Attacks- This is the form of Body Armor most heroes want. The hero's body is composed of apparently normal flesh. However, the tissue is capable of withstanding major damage without showing any effects. The resistance covers physical and energy attacks only. The power rank of an enemy attack is reduced by this Power's rank Level. The remaining is the actual damage the hero suffers. While the hero's skin shows the effects of the tremendous abuse it suffers, it heals quickly.

Resist Emotion Attacks- The hero has increased resistance to emotion related attacks. Such attacks include Emotion Control, Hallucinations, Mental Domination, and attacks aimed at influencing the hero's Intuition/psyche. The hero can ignore attacks with power ranks less than their owm Power rank, and may reduce damage from higher level attacks by their Power rank number.

>>6295094
>>6295153
When you notice that the Wizard character for some reasons got a few more points on sword fighting instead of some other INT skill

>>6295208
Really the only thing that worries me a little about the stats is that our strength is simply high for a normal human but doesn’t seem particularly super beyond that..

But stuff like Machine Animation and the Digital Mind Transmission make me wonder if we couldn’t go for a Suit/Ironman kind of angle? Maybe with something like Funnels from Gundam.

>>6295220
I'm almost inclined to remote control a robot. The Flesh is Weak after all...

>>6295220
>>6295225
We go Iron Man 3 but the last fight when all the suits are breaking shit up and we either stay on the sidelines or we take the more manageable threats.

>>6295236
>pretend to be full control type and act squishy and scared
>actually just straight up bulletproof
>also has a gun
Perfect.

Alright I'm going to start the combat sequence. Only relevant narration, rolls and results.

>Arthur wakes up. Nadya is still unresponsive. He checks on her but gets no response. His movements alert the Ice Monster.

>The Monster looks back, it's about 20 feet away, in an adjacent laboratory. An open door demarcates the sample repository Arthur is in and the room the Monster is.

>Arthur knows something is changed inside him, he doesn't really feel stronger but he does feel tougher if that makes sense.

What does Arthur do?

Ask questions if you want, write in answers and if anons think it's smart, vote for it. If there's no consensus I'll judge the best course of action from the proposed votes.

>>6295283
Probably internally freak out about being in two and now being in one, then immediately grab a gun or a big object to interpose with, it's better than nothing. If shooting it didn't work he'll just need to aim better. At parts that look thin like joints or important like the face. Not like he can grab Nadya and run past the thing without it meeting them half way. Also when someone suffers head trauma it's important to stabilize them BEFORE moving them to avoid further agitating any potential injuries. We have to get this big bastard to fuck off somehow. Maybe chuck a fire extinguisher at it and hope it pops the thing and freaks out in the chemicals.

Too bad the guards here didn't have any heavy firepower. Why would they at a random iceball with nothing for ages away? Could really go for a big bore shotgun or high caliber rifle right now. If it can take out a polar bear it could probably hurt this big fucker. Alas.

It says we can tell something changed. Would we be self aware enough to try and mind jack this thing?

>>6295298
What this anon said

You wouldn't be able to. It's too intelligent to be jacked while conscious. It would have to be knocked out, which sort of defeats the purpose. However.

>Arthur feels a static sensation in the back of his mind. He looks at the door and the console flickers to life. He focuses and all around him, machines previously out of commission momentarily power on before he lets go of that feeling.

>>6295304
Do we have enough control distance to not only close off the room we're in, but also the one the monster is in? If it's difficult to do both at the same time I say we focus on the door of the room the monster is in

>>6295313
Close both doors and look for a way to contact security personal from the upper levels

>>6295316
This

Testing, Machine Animation 1d100. Bo3

Green Result = Only the nearest door is closed
Yellow= Both doors are closed.
Red= Both Doors are closed + You instinctually set of contamination procedures in the room the Ice Monster is in.

Rolled 1 (1d100)

>>6295327
Hold the door?

>>6295331
lmao hodor. Fuck. Point taken, dice.

>We need a Hero!.

Anons step up.

Rolled 15 (1d100)

>>6295327
We're fucked

Rolled 15 (1d100)

>>6295225
Our flesh is infused with nanomachines though, it's far from weak

>>6295327
Ok watch me salvage this with a nat 100

>>6295335
>>6295336
>>6295337
NADYA PLEASE WAKE UP AND SAVE US! kek. What a glorious first showing. It can ONLY go up from here, guys.

Failure to obtain a green result or better.

>Arthur focuses, the consoles power up and the doors begin to close, slower than normal, faltering. The monster seeing this lunges forward, destroying the door's console. It throws Arthur off balance, and his concentration falters. The doors are left a sliver open.

>Arthur hears the screeching of metal being pulled and sawed through. There's two minute maybe three before it gets through.

>Arthur picks up Nadya, he has to go deeping into the facility, where the Monster was coming from.

>The extraction suite where Dr Archbald was last located.
>The lifts heading down to the third floor
>Something else (Maybe a creative use of a power to supplement an action)

If Nadya is unconscious, maybe we could take over her body and have her run with us like a puppet so that we don’t have to carry her? Could help us go faster maybe

Ig if we beed the elevator we could also speed it up using the machine control?

Yes you can speed up an elevator to its maximum possible velocity.

You can't control Nadya's body, because then your body would go unconscious

It's nuch better to just carry her vs testing your power to wake her up in the first place, force her to carry your own unconscious body.

>>6295342
If we're in a kinda sorta cyberpunk world in a super technological secret base, I wanna know if Arthur could use his powers to work like a "sonar", locate some fucking combat/security drones and at least try slow down the monster

Or what >>6295351 said but I'm afraid if Nadya is dead or what's going to happen to her

Bo3 1d100

Digital Mind Transmission. To access robot inventory location through a nearby console.

Rolled 55 (1d100)

>>6295359
Nat 100 pls

Rolled 99 (1d100)

>>6295359

Rolled 94 (1d100)

>>6295359
Obligatory 3rd roll.

Congrats anons. Your first Red Result. Aka a critical range result. Im going to bed but I'll just leave this here

>Disengage Safely Settings. Bio Hazard Detected. Activating Combat protocols.....

>>6295357
>I'm afraid if Nadya is dead or what's going to happen to her
The fact she was unconscious with her eyes open, presumably for a significant period of time as Arthur pulled himself back together, is extremely grim. That we're now jostling her about while trying to escape EL MONSTRO only further concerns me. Going out for a split second from getting your brain rocked? Probably not too bad of a lil concussion. Being out for any span longer than ten or so seconds is already potentially serious brain damage. Obviously, cyberpunk future and she's a rich heiress means if she isn't dead or braindead outright already she can probably be fully or partially recovered from it.

Her dad will probably want to blackbag us though since "it's Arthur's fault she was up here" or some shit. If she does die he'll definitely try to bodybag us.

>>6295416
Don't worry, this is comics. People get KOed all the time with no lasting harm.

>>6295418
I will never not worry about head trauma. Head trauma means no head. How could this possibly ever be ignored? No shot.

If its the way this goes. This wouldn't be the first time a superpower origin story begins with a romantic interest dying. Hope and pray anon. Hope and pray.

>>6295416
>with her eyes open
I can't actually find anything about that in the text. Cyber worm text said reanimation would take 1 minute to complete.
But yeah, she's probably fucking dead and now Arthur has to fight her dad. Can't have shit in the brave new world. Not even a *moderately* evil rich wrangler woman who did you a solid.
Also CPS are not gonna like this lol

Also, QM, are there other capes or Arthur gonna be the first?

>>6296245
Arthur is technically the first cape. And Nadya is 'technically' dead, but don't worry anons she's not gone yet.

>>6296247
Oh boy
Guess she’s gonna be cape #2

>>6296245
>I can't actually find anything about that in the text

>>6294867
>It launches the limb like a projectile. Striking Nadya and sending her sprawling. She slips from your grip. Her eyes stay open but blood trickles from her scalp.

It could just be because we have had general subject matter text instead of flavor text since then. But that was the last thing said about her status aside from unconscious.

>>6296247
AAIIIYYYYEEEEE SHE'S GONE FOREVER! OHHHH NOOOOO! kek

>>6296247
Ah, she's being rezzed by some other cyber worm.
Oh well, guess we're not gonna have our niece shot by Nadya's father as an act of revenge, which would then push Arthur to become a horrific supervillian.

>>6296297
We can always send the conscious mind of Nadya's dad into Techno-Hell where he lives a simulation of torture and horror while we make sure the same microchip we implanted with some nanites send pulses to the brain so it can be puppeteered and act like he normally would

Or to the femur breaker, whatever you guys think it's better

The cold air hits. Above you, wires dangle through a gash in the ceiling. Glass crunches under your shoulder as you shift. Dead men don't feel. But you do, you should be dead, but you're not. You can't explain it.

You groan and try to rise. Your legs buckle. You crawl instead. Your palms press into glass and metal shards scattered across the floor. No pain. No pain?. You grab a particularly sharp fragment and drive it into your palm. Nothing. Not even a sting.

You crawl faster reaching Nadya in seconds. She’s sprawled on the floor like a rag doll with one arm bent beneath her. You brush concrete dust from her face and turn her head. Her eyes are rolled back. You press two fingers to her neck, you barely feel her pulse against your fingertips.

Fuck

Regret and fear swell in your chest. White noise builds in the back of your skull. You close your eyes but the noise doesn't go away, it swells and expands until it becomes a static storm.

The console's dying beep rings in your ears. You can feel its power cells sitting at twelve percent and falling. You see—no, read—the machine's language scrolling behind your eyes. A waterfall of binary, like text on a page, each string as clear as English. You reach out with thought alone.

Its power cells surge to full. Every system in the room screams. The remaining lights blaze to full intensity, the fans roar, and the emergency alarms wail their return from the dead.

The alarms draw back the cause of all of this. Through the doorway, its silhouette approaches.

You search the cascading code for the door controls. Numbers blur past, too many, too fast. You almost drown. You flip a zero to one and the doors begin to grind shut. But you are too slow, the doors stop with a centimeter to spare. A blade-finger wedges into the gap. Metal begins to scream as the creature pries the door apart.

You scoop Nadya up and run.

Dead screens and shattered machines line the corridors, each reaching out through your new sense, begging for resurrection. But you can't help. The doctor mentioned repair bots. They could buy time. But where are they?

An idea pops into your mind, you duck into a room. The nearest console springs to life at your touch. The facility's entire network crystallizes in your mind: power grids, ventilation systems, security protocols. There! Two rooms away, six dormant units.

Wake up.

The overhead lights snap from white to red. A synthetic female voice fills the air: "Biological Hazard Protocols Initiated." Metal footsteps echo from two rooms over. Six chrome humanoids march out, plasma torches mounted on their right arms, left hands clenched into fists.

"You're not repair bots." you blurt out.

"Correct. We are second generation MARCOS: Multi-Adaptive Remote Controlled Operators." The lead unit's optical sensors pulse. "Our safety restraints have been removed. Biohazard containment protocols are active. Please indicate the target."

The creature bursts through the doorway. Red lights blink across its form.

"That. Kill it."

The robots swivel in unison. "Acknowledged."

Six plasma torches reconfigure into weapons. The creature lunges.

Dr. Archibald appears at the corner ahead, waving frantically. You sprint toward him. Behind you, plasma fire erupts. The stench of burning flesh fills the corridor. You reach the Doctor and look back towards the fighting. A crazy idea stirs inside you.

>’Jack’ into a robot, something inside you tells you can do it.
>Follow the Doctor towards the biohazard bunker.

>>6296328
>Follow the Doctor towards the biohazard bunker.
We can experiment when not in mortal danger

>>6296328
>>Follow the Doctor towards the biohazard bunker.
Perhaps once we get Nadya into the bunker

>>6296328
>Follow the Doctor towards the biohazard bunker.

I should have made this clear, but you aren't just leaving Nadya there. She'll go with the doctor. Just a small clarification.

>>6296328
>>6296344
Mmm okay I suppose thats fair

>’Jack’ into a robot, something inside you tells you can do it.

We can have out fight to kill this thing

>>6296328
>Follow the Doctor towards the biohazard bunker
Gotta save the grill

>>6296344
I do not trust the Doctor whatsoever

>>6296328
>>Follow the Doctor towards the biohazard bunker.
>>6296354
>I do not trust the Doctor whatsoever
that whole show he put up? what was that for?

Vote Closed

"Hurry up, lad."

The Doctor pulls a phone from his coat pocket and presses a button. The wall splits open—a hidden staircase reveals itself, descending into darkness.

"Down we go. Watch your step." He nudges you forward.

The door seals behind you. Total darkness. A second passes. Blacklights flicker on, revealing the narrow path beneath your feet.

"What is this place?"

"The facility's biohazard bunker. Built with every cutting-edge technology the company has. If an incident like this occurred, essential personnel could retreat here."

"No." You stop mid-step. "I mean what the fuck is this whole facility? What are you doing here?"

"We study microorganisms from billions of years ago." He says it like he's explaining water is wet.

"That thing upstairs. It is not micro, and it's from a billion years ago, it shouldn’t be alive." you hit back.

Archibald's shoulders drop. "The organism is inside the thing, piloting its flesh. Today's extraction went wrong–rival sabotage, most likely. The main drills malfunctioned. They drilled too fast, too deep. The specimen broke free from the ice."

The stairs end at a juncture, the doctor slips past you and walks down the right hallway that leads to a medical bay. White walls, equipment, a bed with monitoring devices.

"Put her there." the doctor points.

You lower Nadya onto the bed. Archibald fits an oxygen mask over her face, checks her pulse and adjusts the monitors.

"What do you mean it’s inside it?"

He doesn't look up from the monitors. "It means what the words mean Arthur, for the first time we found an organism fused with a host, a monumental find. We thought it’d be dead and even if it wasn’t we always leave enough of an ice layer that they can’t escape"

“But the drills malfunctioned.” you comment.

He nods, “but the drills malfunctioned.”

“Why? Your voice cracks. “Why are you doing any of this?” the question burst out.

"Because this changes everything, Arthur." His hands grip the bed rail. "This can lead to amazing things. We can defy death, reach the cosmos. Build new wonders. This could save billions."

He reads the skepticism in your eyes.

“You should have died. Instead, the Cryphagein restored you—improved you. And I think I know why." He pulls a frosted vial from the cryofreezer. Inside, something moves—barely visible, thread-thin. He slides it into a plasma chamber the size of a microwave.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m giving Lady Nadya a new lease on life. Her body works, but her brain doesn't. She’s dead, with no chance of recovery with conventional medicine. But not anymore. This will change everything.”

The chamber chimes. He removes the vial, now defrosted. The creature inside—no bigger than a rice grain—writhes against the glass.

His hand pauses on the lid. "What did it feel like, Arthur?"

“Dying or waking up”?

“Both”

“Like going to sleep and waking up the next day.”

“Fascinating.”

He pops open the lid at Nadya’s ear. You can see the Cryphagein crawl out, disappearing into the ear canal. The monitors begin to shriek, her heart rate soars, 100, 200, 300, 400 it rises until it flat-lines. There’s silence, then a beep, and another. Her vitals climb, they stabilize.

Her eyes snap open, pupils blown wide with terror.

>Roll 1d100. Bo3. For Nadya.

Rolled 31 (1d100)

>>6296814

Rolled 22 (1d100)

>>6296814
Hold on to your butts

Rolled 100 (1d100)

>>6296814
COME ON, GODDAMIT

>>6296824
HOLY SHIIIIIIIIIT WE'RE GOING TO GET TURBO RAPED BY OUR DEFINITIVELY STRONGER SUPERVILLIAN ALMOST-GF

>>6296824
uh guys

I think our girl was MADE for this shit. Fugg

This is good for you guys. Or for Nadya I should say. I'm going need time to think what's worthy of a nat100. But needless to say she's Wonder-woman, Thor, heavy hitter level of power.

>>6296829
I hope in her panic she doesn't struggle and accidentally the doctor. Or break our arm or something.

This is now caster(male) fighter(female) party lol. Not my personal taste, but hey, at least it'll be intereseting for her character. She already gets *everything* she wants, her only limitation is that she needs security and such to do the heavy lifting, now she's literaly a nat 100 cape brawler. Good luck to anyone saying no to her from here on out.

>>6296833
I think it'll go to her head, and Arthur having had to struggle for so long will have a healthier mindset and work ethic. She's always worked hard to prove she's HER and to have nice things whereas Arthur has just had to put in that elbow grease just to get by. She'll probably revel in the whole superpowers thing while Arthur sees it as a means to and end with some serious benefits. Or perhaps vice versa.

>>6296833
Arthur was never the greatest Knight but the greatest King.

>>6296833
What if it’s 3.5 and she’s the caster with Wish and we’re the artificer with up to 4 robots at once.

>>6296824
Insanity

>>6296848
More seriously this is a very good start for the world of supers. Nadya possibly bringing the full Wonder Woman/alexandria package and we are no shirk either with our tech powers.

Of course if she’s a *villain*….

Doctor really went "here, have a brain parasite, it gives superpowers and brings back from death". Kind of based.
Wonder what the criteria for worm acceptance is. If it was that easy, they'd already been selling those brainworms to the highest bidder. Fuck, maybe they have been.

>>6296829
The absolute state of Arthur

>Mogged by Slavic Oligarch riches
>Mogged by superhuman physicality
Nadya is going to bully the fuck out of us lmao

>>6296852
>>6296848
>>6296834
I have Nadya and Arthur will make some morally devious activities, and it's Nadya that will rebel against her father and be the one to push us to be heroes

Maybe the main reason was just to get back at her dad, but at the end of the day, it is a good action and choice

>>6296864
I have faith*

>>6296864
Nadya takes over her fathers entire criminal supervillain operation by force because hes always held her back*

>>6296861
We do have one thing she'll never be able to outdo us in, SEX.

>>6296969
We may be low income but we’ll never be low in cum

I wonder what Nadya's nat100 bonus will be besides being top of line heavy hitter.

Knowledge of the spaceship(s) crash? landing? that brought the worms here means we could go on a treasure hunt if its not just buried deeper in the ice. Worm lore in general. A secret worm moon base lair. Gear. Powers that are that good? Something to do with the worm itself?

>>6297323
>Worm lore in general
God forbid, nobody should have that miserywank forced upon them.
Yes, I know you mean the brainworm

>>6297335
If anyone is getting bombed like that its the worms once they experience the human condition, the entire internet including such forbidden lore...I pity these creatures

Nadya gasps and grabs for the bed's guardrail. The metal breaks, she jerks forward but you catch her as the rail clatters to the floor.

"What happened?" Her voice comes out thin.

"You were hurt. A bad head injury, the doctor helped."

Archibald stares at her, unblinking. "How do you feel, Nadya?"

"Like I just had the worst hangover of my life." She blinks at the broken rail. "Was that thing broken? I barely touched it."

The doctor retrieves the rail. Where it once connected to the bed, the steel is bent. He holds it out to Nadya. "Bend this for me."

She frowns. "Bend it?"

"Try," you say.

She grips the rail with both hands, her face tenses for effort that is never necessary. The metal folds like paper. Where her fingers press, perfect indentations remain.

"Superhuman strength. And if I'm right—" The doctor spins and grabs a syringe with a needle thick as a pencil, and motions to Nadya. "Your hand."

She hesitates. You squeeze her shoulder.

He flips his grip and stabs down wild. Nadya squeals and jerks back, she squeezes her eyes shut and misses the needle shattering against her skin.

"You fucking psycho! Are you trying to kill me?" She half screams, rubbing her unharmed arm.

The doctor laughs. "Even if I tried, Lady Nadya, I couldn't." He displays the syringe. The needle hangs bent, useless.

"Come." He exits. You help Nadya stand. She leans into you, nearly causing you to collapse. [i]Christ[/i].

"Sorry," she mumbles. You steady her until she finds her balance.

The doctor leads you to a surveillance room bristling with monitors. Every corridor, every section, every room. The room has dozens of feeds streaming live.

You scan all the feeds. "There." You point left. Where a screen shows the creature dragging itself down a corridor toward the lift shaft. Burns and charred flesh cover its body.

"A Shame the MARCOS couldn't finish it." The doctor indicates to another screen where the six robots lay, torn to pieces. "The host body should be dead but the Cryphagein is keeping it moving."

"It's climbing." Nadya comments as the creature leaps inside the lift shaft, digging its blade-fingers into the walls. It disappears from view.

"I have to stop it." You turn to the doctor. "Are these computers connected to the floor’s main systems?

He nods.

You press your palm to the main computer. Code floods your vision. The building's nervous system opens before you. You find the lift controls and prepare the command: send the car down at maximum speed. Crush it.

>Bo3 1d100

Rolled 73 (1d100)

>>6297505

Rolled 94 (1d100)

>>6297505
Behold, we are the keyboard warrior!

Rolled 47 (1d100)

>>6297505

>>6297523
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RjJDCTgBJHA

Just wanted to leave this here. The upcoming update will take a few more day, irl stuff and work have gotten in the way of it.

>>6298222
Thanks for the headsup, take care and see you then Brave.

>>6297505
The lift from the lower levels rises, the lift from the upper levels drops. They gather speed, the burning friction warps the safety rails, spurring them to go even faster. They collide, sandwiching the monster in between two blocks of metal. You hold them in suspension for a moment, rearranging commands so that the two of them descend the shaft at once, the wires and rails break off completely, they're in freefall, all the way to the third level. The lifts and the monster, one big mass of steel and alien flesh

You see the destruction from the monitors. Dust, metal shrapnel, it looks like a small explosion occurred below in the third level. Both lifts lie crumpled like crushed cans.

The system in your mindscape shows catastrophic damage . The guide rails are twisted, the cables are ripped, not to mention the wreckage that are the lifts
"Spectacular." Archibald strokes his chin in thought. "You bypassed every security protocol. Made them exceed their design limits. And when they should have been completely out of commission, you kept them in service, through telekinesis, ferrokinesis? This communication with systems—it's–."

Leaving the doctor to his rambling, Nadya pulls you aside. "What was that?"

"I don’t know. After that thing knocked you out, it killed me."

"But you’re—"

"It killed me, actually. It cut me in half. I was dying, I'm pretty sure I did die. But then I woke up and now I see code everywhere. I can feel all these machines." Your hands shake. "I don't understand any of this."

She goes quiet. "So my head injury—I was dead?"

You nod.

"There are worms in our heads.” you point to your temple. “The doctor put one in your ear and twenty seconds later you wake up fine. One must have gotten into me while I was bleeding out—"

"Stop." She holds your arm. " Breath, just be happy we’re alive.”

She turns to Archibald. ”Doctor, we need to seal the lower levels. Detach the drills. Close every access point. That thing might be paste, it might not be. There could be more of them down there."

The doctor turns white. "That would be wasting years of work. Time spent in equipment R&D, construction, samples, and the—"

"That thing is dangerous." Her hand grips the top of a chair. "If there are more down there, in time we'll secure them properly. With the right equipment and team. You're a scientist, not a child."

Archibald watches the chair begin to fold under her grip. "You're right, of course." He initiates the lockdown, prompting a 15 minute countdown to appear on a screen. "At the end of the counter the lower floor will seal itself until you or your father give clearance to open.” he taps on the screen, “One lift remains functional. We can go up that way."

You silently count down the fifteen minutes in your head, as you traverse the ruined floor, no one talks as you huddle into the lift. Archibald clutches a briefcase of drives and samples he grabbed from the surveillance room. Naday walks in, silent, engrossed in thoughts she doesn't see fit to share.

The doors close

You lean against the wall. The ghosts of exhaustion begin to settle. You say ghost because your body doesn't feel tired, on the contrary it’s freakishly healthy. But your human mind is telling you, you should be shutting down, all the while another part of you is fighting that feeling. The conflicting signals make you tired.

The lift stops and the doors open to fluorescent red lights and two dozen rifle barrels. You can see the pools of sweat on all their brows along with the tension. But as the sight of their employer comes into view they lower their weapons.

A small form bolts from within the crowd. Your niece. Her face is puffy and red from crying. You drop to your knees as she crashes into you. "Uncle Arthur!" She buries her face in your shoulder, her small hands clutch your shirt as if to make sure you’re real.

"I'm here. Everything's okay." You hold her tight, feeling her shake against you.

Everyone gives you space. Now that Nadya is here, everything is all business. "Has anyone established contact with one of our bases in the south?" she throws out the question to the room

"Yes." A young tech pushes through. "We patched through thirty minutes ago. Before the hazard protocols were initiated. They gave us an ETA of 2 hours."

"Good. Start organizing evacuation groups. The wounded, women and children first, essential personnel I want you to see what data you can scavenge. You know the drill, people." She doesn't mention the men who went down with her. Nobody asks.

You carry Sophie to a corner away from the burgeoning controlled chaos

"The scary noises stopped," she whispers.

"They did. It's quiet now."

"Ms. Ross said we were doing emergency drills." Her voice wavers. "But Tommy said monsters were real and they were coming to get us."

"It was just some broken equipment making those scary noises. Like when the heater in our apartment makes those banging sounds, remember?"

She nods against your shoulder. Sophie's breathing smooths out. She's falling asleep in your arms, trusting completely that her uncle will keep her safe. You hold your niece and wait.

You watch everyone work, feeling the weight of what they don't know—the monster in the crevice, the worms swimming in your skull, the impossibility of it all.

The two hours fly by much faster than the time you spent in the lower levels. When the entrance gates roll up and the evacuation teams start herding people into trucks you notice one person who looks out of place among the rescuers. They go directly to Nadya and you see the beginnings of an eye roll before a single word is exchanged.

>The Right-hand
>The Usurper
>The Idealist
>They Climber

I'll leave this here early, before the Labor day festivities prevent me from writing.

>>6299924
>The Idealist

>>6299924
Hmm, I don't quite get that vote. Is that word supposed to describe that new character, Nadya or Arthur?

>>6299934
Yeah should have been a bit more clear. This is the new character.

>>6299924
>>The Usurper
Hell yeah then, first enemy

>>6299924
>The Climber

>>6299924
>The Usurper

Villain time?

>>6299924
>The Usurper

>>6299924
>>They Climber

>>6299924
>The Climber

>>6299924
>The Usurper

Vote Closed

A woman with striking auburn red walks up to Nadya. She’s short and dressed in ‘winter’ attire that definitely rides the thin line between practical and coquette. With skin tight black pants, looking like some kind of anit-cold latex, a winter coat made to be as form fitting as possible, a stylish hood of snow white fur connects to the coat, it frames her face making her look almost foxlike.

You don’t hear the exchange but you see a smirk accompany the woman's words, and the subsequent eye roll Nadya gives in response. She turns to look at you, a sly smile and glint in her eye, beneath the red lights of the facility she has a wolfish countenance. It only lasts a second, Nadya yanks her attention back onto her with a firm pull of the shoulder.

You get the feeling this person wants you to approach, so in response you wait until the conversation is over before walking over. You can see anger simmering underneath Nadya’s mask of calm.

“Who was that?” you ask, repositioning Sophie.

“Nobody,” she snaps.

You hum, an irritated Nadya is never a good thing. You always have to provide the correct level of support and deflection in times like these. Not so much as to suffocate and not so little as to seem nonchalant, give her something to vent about. She begins to walk, you follow alongside her, opening the door of a snow car and laying Sophie inside before you get inside and close the door shut.

The snow car rumbles as it moves over the frozen Canadian wilderness. Through the windows it stretches endlessly.

“That was some choice of wardrobe,” You throw out the bait.

She takes the bait, eagerly. “I know! I mean what kind of clothes are those for this weather and,” she pauses to really look at you, “I saw the stare shew threw your way, what the fuck is she thinking? Trying to mess with you.”

You don’t have the impression she was messing with you, she seemed more curious than anything. But you don’t voice those thoughts. You're still wondering who she is to be able to offend Nadya to this degree.

“So who was she? Why would she want to mess with me?”

Nadya huffs, “Alright, she was...messing with me, she stared you down because she knows I don’t like her. Her name is Rebecca Sterling,” she spits out the name.

“So, this Rebecca, she’s a…” you pause to find the right word, “a coworker?"

Nadya huffs, “She likes to think so, in reality she’s my fathers pet. She’s got an ostentatious title that’s not worth the paper it’s written on. She likes to go gallivanting around the company, poking her noise where it doesn't belong.”

Ostentatious title. That's pretty much what you have, or had now that the base is empty.

“Ok, so why is she here?”

"She said that she just so happened to be at the base that received the distress call." Nadya's fingers thrum against her thigh. "I don't believe her for a second. She's always poking her head in my projects. Did you know tries to show up at board meetings she has no business attending, she dares to asks questions about them even."

"You don't think she was there by coincidence?" you ask.

"She's never anywhere by coincidence. She's like a mosquito, always chasing her next sip of blood."

The doctor's words echo in your head—sabotage. You resolve to let Nadya come to that conclusion herself.

"Alright, so if it's not a coincidence, how do you think she knew where to be?"

Her eyes widen. "That bitch!" she screams, causing Sophie to shift in the seat next to you. You steady her movements, let her get relaxed again. Nadya covers her mouth with her hand, realizing her mistake. She mouths "sorry" and lowers her voice. "Archibald said there was sabotage. I didn't pay it much attention then, but with her here, I know she has something to do with it."

"Alright. So you find out, right? You investigate and sort it out."

Nadya remains pensive, staring at the frost creeping across the window. "Yeah, I will. And I need your help."

You put your hands up. "Woah, I am not a detective."

"You don't need to be. You just have to use those gifts of yours, Arthur."

The car hits a bump on the frozen ground, and she grabs the overhead handle to steady herself.

"When we reach the base, we'll have maybe a day before we have to leave. I can get a tour of the place, act like I'm doing a standard inspection. All I need you to do is look through the base files and see if there is anything interesting."

"But you can do that, Nadya. You don't need me for that."

"I could, but then everyone would know. My access code would appear on the logs. Or the data might auto-delete as soon as I start inputting my login. Rebecca's like that, she'd have contingencies." She lays a hand on your inner thigh, her lips in a half pout. "I need you to do it. There's a reward for you at the end of all this trouble," she adds with puckered lips.

You close your eyes, Don't, Don't, Don't, you chant. but you open them to her pleading face and you capitulate. "Fine."

"Thank you," she whispers against your cheek, giving you a peck. You separate and she opens up a holopad to write some reports, the screen's blue glow illuminates her focused expression.

You look at Sophie, sleeping in bliss, her breath creating small clouds in the cold air of the car. You want the same peace. You nudge Nadya. "Wake me up when we get there. please"

She nods

>Bo3 1d100, For some digital investigation.

Rolled 25 (1d100)

>Tommy said monsters were real and they were coming to get us
tommy knows too much
>>6300652
Not even a day since getting powers and Arthur is already getting used for all he's worth. Gotta respect the hustle

Rolled 83 (1d100)

>>6300652

Rolled 94 (1d100)

>>6300652

>>6300652
Dang that was fast. I wonder how the other options would have turned out. An idealist or right hand auburn secretary that is also interested in Arthur but doesn't have quite as many villain qualities lol. Nadya's competition for the Arthurbowl. Looks like a red zone crit tho, so that should be nice.

>>6300692
>tfw we find out she didn't sabotage the place, but she has been sexting nadya's dad

>>6300692
Well the other choices would have introduced completely different characters. Different age, gender, backgrounds vs our new short redhead.

>>6300697
Arthur is the 150k bootycall, game respects game. If shes the Haman our guy is so in, he could pilot a gundam.

>>6300721
Fair enough, I'm happy with this choice either way.

>>6300746
>I fucked your career.
>Yeah well I fucked your dad!

>>6300652
I normally don't like to swear fealty to first girl but Nadya is so smooth

>>6300791
What a comeback, just like her dad always---
Then Nadya rips her in half so we have to decide whether to worm her because its not okay to just kill her, but also shes kind of a hot bitch and Arthur clearly can't help himself

>>6300652
The base supervisor's glossy dress shoes clack against the floor. He keeps throwing glances Nadya’s way, adjusting his tie each time she catches his gaze. He leads you to the end of a corridor where a plain metal door opens up to his office. A standard issue desk, chairs, and cabinets occupy the majority of the room, complemented by sparse decorations. Immediately your eyes land to the comms panel on the wall, beside it hangs a detailed map of the Nunavut region.

Misinterpreting your interest, the supervisor walks toward the map. You and Nadya follow. "This facility has quite the history. Native prospectors struck gold here in '83—" his finger taps a black dot "—and the mining companies went rabid for licenses. Never mind this was treaty territory. The government needed revenue after the recession, so they handed out permits like party favors."

Your fingers brush the comms panel while he talks. The contact point warms as your mind syncs with the system. The base’s security protocols crumble. You don’t trigger any alarms—-the base's firewall is ancient compared to the security of the research facility. Financial records cascade through your neural feed. Personnel files. Encrypted communications. Terabytes of data,.

"We sat on one of the richest deposits in the territory," the supervisor continues, oblivious to the digital intrusion occurring inches away. "But when public opinion turned against private mining operations in the late '10s, they shuttered the whole operation. We purchased a lease and refitted the base as a weather station around five years ago. Now we sell atmospheric data to research institutes, the government, we occasionally provide consulting services to shipping companies tracking ice flows—boring work if I’m honest."

You catch Nadya's eye, signaling: keep him talking.

She touches his arm lightly. "Don't sell yourself short, Mr...?"

"Martin. Martin Scheude." The words tumble out.

"Ah, the company poached you from Germany? Private sector or academia?"

While Nadya draws him into conversation, you maintain the facade of attention —nodding at appropriate intervals, keeping your expression engaged while your consciousness splits. Your powers make parallel processing possible, but the strain builds behind your temples.

You filter through the data stream. Any mention of the northern facility... Nothing. Rebecca Sterling... A single entry: arrival logged the day after you and Nadya landed. No stated purpose, no official capacity. Interesting.

You pivot to targeted keywords. Dr Archibald>/i]. Zero results. Worm. Too many false positives. Cryphagein.

That hits.

A research paper, uploaded a week ago from this network. Author: Dr. Wallace Artham. The abstract is dense beyond your expertise, you won’t even try and read the paper itself. But you recognize enough to know this connects to what the doctor described. You flag it for download to your phone.

A second sweep yields nothing more. If Rebecca's hiding something, it's not on the primary servers. Either she's using an air-gapped system or keeping everything on a personal device.

Time to go. You lift your hand from the comms panel, the connection severing cleanly, and tap your phone through your pocket. You mentally send a ping alert to Nadya's phone.

She glances down with practiced surprise. "Oh, forgive me, Martin. Looks like I have a situation to handle." She makes a show of checking the screen, frowning with concern.

The enthusiasm drains from his face. "Of course. Still, it was a pleasure."

He opens the door as Nadya steps out, already beginning to dial a phony number. You follow, offering Martin a polite nod. The door clicks shut.

Nadya tosses her phone on the inflatable bed. The evacuees will be spending most of the night in repurposed storage facilities. While the majority—including the doctor—are outside lying side by side on the floor, Nadya and you, by association, have the perk of privacy, a small maintenance room.

"Alright, so what did you find out?" she asks impatiently.

"Honestly? Each piece by itself is probably nothing, but together maybe it's something" You pause and pull out your phone. "I found the data log for when Rebecca arrived. She got to the station the day after we landed in Nunavut. Not much information on her besides that, but I did find a research paper." You raise a hand, preempting Nadya's confused expression. "You know the thing?" You tap your temple.

Nadya nods.

"Well, the doctor used a particular word to describe it back at the base. I had the idea of running that word through the search, and I found a research paper that referenced that uses the same terminology. Now, I'm not a doctor—I don't know exactly how common this terminology is—but there could be something there. The author's name is Dr Wallace Artham. He does field work in the wild most often, but lucky for us, he returns to base tomorrow."

Nadya clicks her fingernails together, humming thoughtfully.

"Or," you continue, "if you think you can manage it, maybe you can get me close to one of Rebecca's personal devices. I could see if she has anything on it…?"

>Investigation Rebecca's personal device
>Investiate Dr Wallace Artham

>>6301648
>Investigation Rebecca's personal device
More promising if we’re investigating the possibility she committed sabotage

>>6301648

>Investigation Rebecca's personal device

Keeps it all close to her chest, get in there Arthur

>>6301648
>Investigation Rebecca's personal device

>>6301648
>>Investigation Rebecca's personal device

>>6301648
>Investigate Rebecca's personal device

>>6301648
>>Investiate Dr Wallace Artham
He's probably rebecca's pet doctor, a replacement for archibald. Since he's arriving right after the sabotage

Vote Closed